Seasons
by Aldira
Summary: A drabble for the different seasons. Light slash.
1. Winter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warnings: Light slash

Note: Written for the Game of Life Challenge (seasons)

**Seasons**

Harry sneezed, eyes snapping closed on instinct. His nose twitched in the aftermath, and he shook his head slightly to clear away that clogged up feeling. He let out a strange sound, bemoaning the winter chill.

He brought his hands close to his face, breathing onto them to stave off the cold. Rubbing his arms fiercely, Harry huddled into himself. It was too cold. He was only wearing the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him, and while it was nice and warm, it only did little to fight off against a strong gust of wind.

"Harry."

Said boy turned in the direction of that voice. He found a curious Neville heading toward him, snow crunching audibly under his feet in his course. There was a knitted hat on his head, and he was encased snugly in a winter jacket.

He must be very warm, Harry enviously mused, but he still put on a smile despite his nearly frozen state.

"Neville," Harry said, his breath visible in the low temperature.

"What are you doing out here?" Neville asked once he got close enough.

"I could say the same to you," he replied. "I was just walking around. Didn't think it would snow on me."

"It's not the season to only be wearing a thin sweater."

Neville's eyebrows were drawn together in worry.

Harry shrugged lightly. "It's not like I can do anything about it now. I was just heading inside. Are you coming?"

"Yeah, I just finished up in the greenhouse," Neville said before taking off his mittens when he noticed Harry rubbing his hands together constantly to generate warmth. "Here, wear this. You look like you're freezing."

"Oh no, it's fine."

"I insist!"

Harry hesitated but took one of the mittens and put it on. He shook his head when Neville held out the other one.

"You wear that one. We're even this way."

Neville frowned as he slipped it on. His brown eyes flickered, catching emerald ones. There was a thoughtful look on his face before his hand darted out and captured Harry's own.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Wha-?"

"This way, we'll both be warm," Neville stated wisely even as a light blush covered his cheeks.

A smile tugged at Harry's lips. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go home."


	2. Spring

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**Seasons**

The loud sneeze that had the prone body on the bed jerking wildly, blankets jarring from the sudden convulsion, resulted in a raised eyebrow from the standing figure, fingers pausing on the next button of his collared shirt. A soft sigh escaped his lips while he shook his head slightly at the following sniffles and groans of the bed's occupant.

Harry sat down on the bit of mattress that wasn't completely covered in crumpled tissues, pulling on his socks and slipping on his shoes while casting glances at the lump that was his best friend. Once his feet were fully clad, he patted Ron's back encouragingly.

"Come on, mate. Get out of bed," he slung the red and gold tie around his neck, tying it half-heartedly before shrugging his cloak over his shoulders.

When all he got was a groan in return, Harry began to shake Ron incessantly. He paused, thinking up another way that would surely coax him out from under the covers.

"Breakfast is almost over," Harry said gently, hoping that would be enough. The best way to win Ron's heart was through his stomach.

A silence. Harry frowned before taking another route.

"You'll miss today's test in Binns' class," Harry tried again.

All he received was another body-jerking sneeze.

"I hate spring!" Ron wailed as he blew his nose obnoxiously loud, throwing the tissue randomly onto the bed.

"Don't be so overdramatic. You're starting to sound like Malfoy."

Harry ducked when a used tissue was chucked at him.

"Please keep your snot to yourself," Harry said, sending a half-amused, half-disgusted look toward Seamus' corner of the room where the little crumpled tissue landed innocently among the pile of rumpled clothes.

Harry stared once more at the curled-up figure on the bed before giving up.

"You want me to fetch some breakfast for you?" he asked, already heading toward the door.

"Please?" was the hoarse reply.


End file.
